


Rage Against the Dying of the Light

by meterokinesis



Series: Whumptober 2020 (DC) [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Caffeine Addiction, F/M, Gen, Some mentions of blood but not many, Tim Drake needs to go the fuck to bed, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meterokinesis/pseuds/meterokinesis
Summary: Whumptober 2020sleep deprivation| insecurity | "make an example of them"Gotham isn't the city that never sleeps, but when it does nightmares are sure to follow.
Relationships: Jack Drake & Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 (DC) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960009
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Rage Against the Dying of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of posting! I've been super busy with SAT prep and homework, but it's clearing up. This was originally going to be "insecurity" but I couldn't make it come out the way I wanted it to, so instead have a history of Tim Drake's relationship with sleeplessness and caffeine.

It was just sleeping.

Babies did it for sixteen hours a day. Tim was better than a baby. He could just close his eyes and not be conscious for a few hours like a normal person. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He’d done everything the experts said to. No caffeine for six hours before bed, no phone for the last two hours, and a calming, relaxing bedtime routine that involved lavender oil and breathing exercises.

It sucked.

But Bruce was adamant about him staying on a semi-regular schedule. The agreement they’d come to was four hours a night for two weeks straight, then they’d reassess. It had been six weeks since that deal and he still hadn’t managed to do it.

  
________________

  
When he was little and still doted on, his parents always talked about how he never slept as a baby. His mom would joke about how he was so excited to see the world that sleeping came second. They’d brought him to pediatricians and sleep specialists and holistic healers, but they all got the same response: _he’ll sleep when he’s tired._

Tim eventually grew out of his night owl tendencies. He was never scared of monsters in his closet or the boogeyman under his bed. Nannies and babysitters would coo to his parents, on the rare occasions they were around, that he was such an easy kid--no muss, no fuss. His father would give a tight-lipped smile and shell out hundreds to the women who raised Tim while they were out performing new-age colonization in the name of science.

  
________________

  
The sleeplessness returned when he figured out who Batman and Robin really were. He’d like to say it was the adventure, but it was more than that. It was how he felt like part of something, even if it only lasted a few hours every night. Sacrificing some shut-eye was worth it to run across the rooftops like his heroes.

The sleeplessness didn’t get worse when he stopped needing a full-time nanny, it just was given more space to grow. He no longer needed to strategize his escapades or sneak “patrol” snacks. He could just come home from school, finish his homework, make dinner, take a nap, follow the Bats around in the wee hours of the morning, then crash until he had to wake up for class and do it all again. All in all it was a great system for a ten year old.

  
________________

  
Then Tim became Robin. And that schedule changed to accommodate training and significantly more Red Bull than any twelve year old has the right to consume. But he handled it, as he always did. He still aced his classes and learned jiu jitsu and managed to fake a smile when his parents inevitably left again.

  
________________

  
Everything got complicated when his mom died, as things usually do. His dad was paralyzed and possibly never waking up, and his mom was, y’know, _dead_ , which is a lot of stress for a thirteen year old kid to handle, let alone a thirteen year old who is also supposed to save the world every other week. Tim spent his nights studying and training and overthinking instead of sleeping, but he still got mostly As and only fell asleep on patrol twice, so it was fine. After all, Bruce didn’t need to know about the mini-fridge full of Red Bull and Bang and 5-Hour Energy shots shoved in his closet.

When his dad woke up, it was even easier to hide his sleeping patterns. The 24/7 medical aide was under strict instructions not to disturb Tim while he was sleeping and his dad was too busy flirting with his physical therapist to notice his son sneaking out. Even if he did, he never cared enough to stop him.

  
________________

  
Then there was Steph. He’d sneak through her window and hold her until her mom came home. Those nights he would actually doze for a little while, enough to dream. Steph never brought up the nightmares, just held him as he silently cried. Even his sobs were quiet and obedient, just like how his parents always wanted.

Even when his dad forbade him from being Robin, Tim didn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling every night, listening to the same 50 songs and wondering why this was his life.  
This trend continued even after he was reinstated as Robin, and his few designated sleeping hours were instead dedicated to making sure neither of his lives collapsed around him.

He stopped sleeping entirely when Steph died. Stopped eating too. He didn’t cry or scream or breakdown, just felt completely numb. He went on patrol and aced his classes and didn’t feel a thing. At night, he just replayed her final moments over and over. Sometimes he’d go to her grave and talk to her, just to see if it would finally make him feel something. It didn’t.

  
________________

  
Not even two months later, his dad was killed. The constant replays had new content now: Tim holding onto his dad like he was the last thing keeping him grounded, ignoring the iron smell of the blood seeping into his suit. Tim spent these nights in tears, and his pillow hadn’t seen a dry night in months. Tim started to pour Red Bull into his morning coffee to get himself through Pre Calc.

Every new death and disappearance just added more nightmare fodder. Were they even nightmares if he didn’t have to sleep to see them?  
Tim quickly learned that if he just worked through the night, he was 56% less likely to spend it hyperventilating into his comforter. It also let him work on cases and get extra credit done for class, so if anything he was doing a good job.

A few times Alfred had to tranq him to get him to rest. This practice was quickly ended after Tim had a panic attack shortly after waking up, which ended in a 7 hour long game of _Where in the World is Tim Drake?_ (He was in the Tower’s broom closet.)

  
________________

  
The next few months fell into the same sort of routine. Tim would complete hours of homework, then go on patrol, then finish up whatever reports needed to be done. If there were a few hours left before his alarm, maybe he’d fall asleep watching old YouTube videos. If not, he’d catch a power nap then slam a Monster before first period.  
It was a flawed system, but it worked.

  
________________

  
Then Bruce disappeared. When he wasn’t fighting for his life against Gotham’s gangs, he was researching. And when Dick took his mantle, he left. Those months on the road were beyond sleepless. Tim was running on caffeine, sheer will, and a prayer. Sleep felt like a death sentence. He was like a shark: if he stopped moving, he’d die. And he did die. Almost.

Sleeping at the League was obviously a dumb descision, so he didn’t. Point to Tim and his totally functioning braincell.

  
________________

  
And now he was here. Bruce was alive and Stephanie was alive and he was as safe as he’d been since he saw that quadruple somersault. For once there wqas no big scheme to be solved--outside of that Falcone case that had been nagging him for weeks--or emergency that needs him. He wasn’t supposed to worry about senior year or AP classes or college applications. He was just supposed to sleep.

Tim glanced over at his alarm clock. It was 5:17. Not worth sleeping if he would just have to wake up in less than three hours anyway.  
He’d just try again tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated, but never required
> 
> Want to submit a prompt? Send me an ask over at meterokinesis.tumblr.com!


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